


Thanatophobia

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 03:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11222490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The dead stay dead, the alive fear death, the dead haunt the alive, it is all relative.Note: This was a writing collaboration/tag team done with a fellow writer on Undertale Amino.





	Thanatophobia

The dead cannot be revived. Alas they can only but merely live as past memories within objects or possibly sometimes even people. 

Walking the corridor of grey-scaled monochrome, something feels off about the place. On second thoughts, the setup and interior designs of the now distant cottage also had a sense of familiarity. Is it possible to have feelings of déjà vu upon a place of the foreign kind? Perhaps it was the triggering of the hippocampus because of the sight of motifs with a similar appearance to elsewhere. A recently put out fireplace, a closet of childish sweaters in the guest bedroom, a sweet yet distrait aroma of a cinnamon and butterscotch based dessert. And even the placements of botanical plants seem eerily identical.

Reaching the end of the corridor, the child turned a left into a room. A garden. Filled to the brim with petals of aurum. Subconsciously their left hand grabbed at the locket around their neck. An uneven nostalgia stirred and cognitive functions lagged in response. The zephyrs brought pollen to their noses and flashbacks to the flowerbed where a maternal driven figure tended to their wounds. A simple reach inside the pockets found the bandage of such. Bloodied. 

Suddenly another sight is thrown into their heads. Blood. There was blood everywhere, from both fighters. Something else was mixed in the air, like stinging wasps that blew into the cuts, trying to avenge their now deceased queen of the hive. It was like some form of punishment that would never fully make up for such heinous actions.

A hand pounces on their shoulder as if boulders crushing the entire right half of their body. Slightly tilting their head upwards reveals a clock of violet, the same shade as the dusted tunic left deserted at the barricade of the Ruins. Tremors electrify across their body at the sight of a familiar stranger. It was as if she was there again but this story does not belong in the fairy tale genre. The dead cannot come back alive. They can only exist as abstract reminders at the back of one’s conscious for wrongdoings and misunderstood mistakes.

A voice spoke in igniting tones that rang in the child’s ears long after all has been said. “Think of it as a trip to the dentist, like pulling out a tooth. Goodbye human.”

But it wasn’t like pulling a tooth. Taking the life of a being even if it was not out of spite but poorly riddled desperation. How is this silhouette so calm about this task that lies ahead of either of them? Following him to the last battle arena the child inspects the reincarnation of the one they once reaped. Except the king is a separate entity to his lady. Scribed with guilt, loneliness and impending amounts of remorse, it seemed they were in the same boat. 

Footsteps came to a halt, echoing throughout the room. Pivoting to face the hopeful, the room ignited in scorching sparks that screamed silence. Those embers must of taken many to be of such a callous calibre. His line of sight was downcast just as hers had been, ashamed to be in this situation. His breaths heaved to the same difficulty as hers as she compressed those emotions to protect. His stance was forced, as was hers, in a constantly shifting stage of aloof and unsettled regret. They were one of the same, a cursed, inescapable bond to each other however far they run away from themselves. 

A reflex stumble backwards shows them the locked entrance. The metallic dents of rust and etchings of shallow nail marks felt foreign against their skin. With no means of escape it seems they have been thrust into the same dilemma that ended in unthinkable events. It stirred within their minds again. “Kill”

As if taking on a difference persona, when given the scythe instead of the harp, it seems an angel can manifest into a reaper within a matter of seconds. Crude, emotionless, apathetic. Their aura transmogrified into those such descriptions. Armageddon was upon, he will kill and so shall the human. Hellfire has been released as bedlam rises from its slumber. Waves of ghoulish inferno flock in the human’s direction only to be met and relinquished by the gelid knife they wield. The guise was pulled apart to the face of equal opponents. No longer was this battle to be Goliath versus David when true colours spill.

Sending out about swarm of flames, there was a brief moment where the two made eye contact. Those pupils dilated and with the clinch of his jaw, it could be seen that conclusion was drawing near. Slowly draining out of energy, it seemed the warrior had underestimated the stamina of his childlike appearance foe. They were a fear driven being whose persistence comes from such a will to live that even death to others would have to be necessary. The human has morale, but everything submits to thirst for survival in the end.

He had seen many bodies of dying or deceased children however this particular human was different the past ones. The human that stood before him had the characteristics of someone who has since passed. Alas even if it were to be world’s end the skies would still not be kind enough to grant the presence of the dead for even one extra breath. The past is gone, even if it seemingly occupies the present. As his mind ran forth and back, there was a moment of stillness. Then with one drastic slash from right shoulder to left hip, the crown has fallen and the reign of hope overthrown. It was done.

Simple as water on fire, extinguishment came easy. The hearth may boast its strength but when it is out of fuel, it will cease to burn. Then the water will watch on from the sidelines, that incognito assassin who would escape unscathed.

When the trident clinked as it falls onto the floor, the human snapped out of their trance. Shock coursed through their bodies. Once again they had cut the life strings of an innocent. Their only jurisdiction in their minds was that they were merely setting him free. Allowing him to be with his family again. Yet that only stood as an explanation to place blame elsewhere. The truth was already out. 

Thanatophobia


End file.
